Secrets Eyes

The rain came down in relentless sheets as I stood outside the dimly lit church, the sound of thunder muffling my uneven breaths. Carlo’s card felt heavy in my hand, as though it carried the weight of my decision…a decision that could either save me or ruin me.

For three days, I’d been a shadow, slipping through alleys and dodging the men Giovanni sent to find me. Fear clung to me like a second skin, but it was the anger that kept me moving, kept me from falling apart completely.

Inside, the church was cold and dark, the candlelight casting long shadows across the cracked walls. And there he was—Carlo Donatelli. He leaned against a pew, the picture of calm arrogance, a cigarette dangling between his fingers.

I wanted to scream at him for making me wait too long, how could he?

He had promised to meet me immediately I called but then, I had been kept waiting for three days, with my child.

“You came,” he said, his tone almost mocking.

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the chill crawling up my spine.

His eyes swept over me, pausing briefly on the bruises Giovanni had left on my face and the protective hand I placed over my stomach. Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone before I could name it.

“Giovanni’s work?” he asked, gesturing toward my bruises.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” I shot back, a flash of defiance breaking through my caution.

Carlo smirked. “You’ve got fire, I’ll give you that. But fire alone won’t bring him down.”

I swallowed hard. “You said you could help me. Was that a lie?”

He exhaled a stream of smoke, the smell mingling with the damp air. “I can help you, but only if you’re willing to help yourself. Revenge isn’t about rage, Maya. It’s about control. You’ll need to think like Giovanni…predict his moves, exploit his weaknesses. Are you ready for that?”

I hesitated, the enormity of what he was asking sank in. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. This was about war.

“I’m ready,” I said, the words tasting like a promise I couldn’t break.

Carlo’s smirk widened, but there was something almost approving in his eyes. “Good. Let’s start with the basics.”

The days that followed were brutal, but they forced me to confront a part of myself I didn’t know existed. Carlo pushed me to my limits, showing no mercy as he taught me how to fire a gun, how to spot a lie in someone’s eyes, and how to use my pain as a weapon.

I did martial arts training, even though I was with child, he took no pity on me, he'd said one needed to forget that there was a woman in the battle of survival.

I couldn't only survive just to survive. I had to kill to survive.

“You’ve spent your whole life surviving,” he said one night as we trained in an abandoned warehouse. “But surviving isn’t enough anymore. You want to beat Giovanni? You need to learn how to fight.”

At first, I hated him for his harshness, for the way he seemed to delight in testing my breaking point. But as the days passed, I began to understand. Each lesson was a step closer to reclaiming the life Giovanni had stolen from me.

I wasn’t just a pushover, I wasn't just the bullied. I was learning how to push over, I was learning how to bully.

But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

One evening, as Carlo and I planned our next move, he brought up Matteo…Giovanni’s right-hand man.

“If we turn him in, Giovanni’s entire operation crumbles,” Carlo said, spreading out a map of the Moretti territory.

I frowned, the idea seeming both impossible and reckless. “Matteo’s loyal to Giovanni. He won’t talk.”

Carlo’s smile was sharp enough to cut. “Everyone talks if you know how to ask the right questions.”

The plan was risky, but desperation left no room for doubt. We intercepted Matteo on his way to a meeting, ambushing him before he could call for backup. Carlo’s men restrained him, and I watched as the man who once mocked me now glared in defiance.

“Let me guess,” Matteo spat, blood dripping from his split lip. “You’re here to kill me.”

“Not yet,” Carlo replied smoothly. “But that depends on how useful you are.”

I stepped forward, my heart pounding. “Matteo, listen to me. Giovanni doesn’t care about you. He’ll sacrifice you the moment it benefits him. Is that the kind of man you want to die for?”

He sneered. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I could see he was fighting hard not to believe me, even if he did. He saw the way I was taken as bait, used and then dumped. By a husband who had claimed to live and to protect me.

“Don’t I?” I shot back, my voice rising. “He killed my father, Matteo. The man who trusted him, mentored him. Giovanni betrayed him without a second thought. Do you really think you’re any different?”

Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. I could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the way his defense cracked just slightly.

“What do you want from me?” he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Information,” Carlo said, stepping beside me. “And your cooperation. Help us take Giovanni down, and you’ll walk away with your life and a chance to start over.”

It wasn’t trust that made Matteo agree. it was survival. The same survival that had made me run, to find solace in the hands of my ex husband's enemy.

But as we left the warehouse, the small victory was overshadowed by a grim reminder of what we were up against. Waiting for us at Carlo’s safe house was a bloodied teddy bear, its stuffing spilling out like entrails.

I gasped in shock as I stared at the bloodied mess, things were becoming even more real.

“What's that?” I managed in a whisper.

“A note” Carlo muttered, his jaw tightening.

“What does it mean?” I asked, a chill running down my spine.

He met my gaze, his expression dark. “It means somebody knows we are coming for Giovanni”